


Now cracks a noble heart

by onestepatatime32



Category: Romeo & Juliet - Takarazuka Revue, Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Ending, Character Death, I am so sorry, M/M, References to other character death, benvolio doing his best, not a happy time turn back now this is a whole heap of misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime32/pseuds/onestepatatime32
Summary: “Romeo killed Tybalt, Romeo must not live.”. If fewer questions were asked after the duel, who would disbelieve Benvolio claiming responsibility for the crime in Romeo’s stead?
Relationships: Benvolio Montague/Tybalt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Now cracks a noble heart

**Author's Note:**

> Based specifically on the 2010 Takarazuka production of the french musical; Tybalt and Benvolio had a really interesting and intense dynamic in that and I thought it’d lend itself well to a scenario like this.

Benvolio tangled his hand in Tybalt’s hair. He loved his hair, if he was honest. Uneven, frazzed, streaked with red. It was beautiful. He’d never told him through any means other than roughly pulling and twisting it between his fingers when they were in bed, but he loved it. 

Blood began to seep between Benvolio’s fingers from the gash where Tybalt’s head had struck the cobblestones as he fell. 

God, he should have told him. 

He looked down at the knife in his other hand; Mercutio’s. Its owner was lying behind him growing cold, so cold...he should be holding  _ him,  _ not his murderer, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Tybalt’s glassy eyes. Even in death he looked troubled. Mercutio had looked troubled as well, terrified and heartbroken at being ripped so suddenly away from the world. He was so young. So  _ alive _ . Benvolio had felt, watching him sob into Romeo’s arms in agony and go quiet all at once, that the world had simply stopped turning with the vanishing of the beat in Mercutio’s chest.

He had only crumbled for a second, but a second was all it took, and now Tybalt’s eyes were glazed and gone and Romeo...Romeo...

Whatever energy Benvolio had had a moment before when he wrenched the knife from Romeo’s hands and shouted at him to run had vanished completely with Romeo’s footsteps. He’d knelt by Tybalt to check for a pulse and held his twitching hands as the last flitting shadow of the golden light of his eyes faded. Benvolio still couldn’t move, only buried his face in the bloodied mop of hair splayed across Tybalt’s wounded chest until the guards pulled him upright roughly and led whatever was left of him away from the scene. 

* * *

There were few questions; only a scattering of bystanders had witnessed the duel, and the chaos had made it hard for anyone to make out details. A few witnesses claimed Romeo Montague had been involved in the scuffle, but they were quickly rebuffed. Romeo Montague was no fighter, and Tybalt and Benvolio’s hotheaded rivalry was damn near notorious. The accusation was simple. 

“Benvolio Montague, did you participate in a street brawl in direct defiance of the executive order against fighting in the streets of Verona issued the morning before last by the Prince?”

He had tried to pull them away. God, he had tried. 

“Yes.”

“And did you lethally wound the late Tybalt Capulet with this knife, a former possession of the late Mercutio?” The official’s voice dripped with derision. Benvolio wondered if he thought himself above the feud simply because his role was to deal death out to those who couldn’t afford to choose not to care.

Mercutio lifeless in his hands, Benvolio had glanced up blearily and locked eyes with Tybalt. Tybalt’s laughter had faltered. Benvolio couldn’t forget the soft look of dawning horror he wore, though whether it was truly from regret or simply the shock of the moment Benvolio would never know because Romeo—sweet, impulsive Romeo, who should never have had to feel the fury of grief—had leapt on Tybalt like a wildcat in a flash. Benvolio was beyond too late to stop him. 

“Yes.”

Romeo would not hang for Benvolio’s failure to keep things in check.

The sentence was decided without deliberation. Public hanging, prior to which the sentenced man would spend 24 hours in custody of the law. Benvolio supposed the prince couldn’t afford to be lax with his recent decree even if his nephew  _ had _ been killed by the murdered man. He had expected this. Still, he couldn’t suppress a shudder of horror. The chain-draped collar he always wore suddenly felt unbearable against his throat; he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t breathe, felt a maddening desire to tear it away, rip through collar and skin and bone all at once just to chase away the phantom feeling of a noose around his neck.

To ground his thoughts as he was led to the prison, he let his mind wander to Romeo. Benvolio prayed that at the very least he was keeping hidden for now; if Romeo tried to turn himself in…

He couldn’t afford to consider that, not right now. One foot in front of the other, count the steps. He would keep Romeo out of this at any cost. 

* * *

The guard laughed mirthlessly and aimed a kick at Benvolio’s ribs as he shoved him into the cell. “Real mess you landed yourself in with that Tybalt, huh kid? Not that he wasn’t headed for a dog’s end, I always said he was a piece of work.”

Benvolio uncurled his body carefully and sat up with as much dignity as he could with his back against the bars. The man grabbed Benvolio’s collar roughly from behind and sneered, foulness on his breath.

“Shoulda just fucked it out of him instead of spilling his guts on the street. Bet he would’ve even let you, too. Everyone saw how you fought. Cats in heat, I swear.”

Benvolio’s stomach churned. With some difficulty, he wrenched himself away and spat at the man. “Sounds like my business. Take your cheap jokes back to whatever dung heap you crawled out of.” 

The guard laughed rudely, but an angry shout from the warden summoned him away before he could persist. With him gone, Benvolio was finally alone. He sat down slowly and tried to calm his shaking hands. He couldn’t. It felt like his heart was cracking and the fissures were splitting his whole body in pieces from the inside out. Patchworking the pieces back together was becoming more and more difficult.

“Montague.” The voice brought him plunging back to earth. “In accordance with the rights of a prisoner condemned to death, I am to ask you whether you would like to make confession prior to your execution, be it tonight or tomorrow. If you have anyone in particular you would prefer, we can send for him.”

Benvolio kept his back to the man and forced his voice to steady. He couldn’t let this warden see his reddened eyes. “Friar Lawrence from the chapel below the town square, if you know him. Tonight would be fine." 

The second he and the friar were alone, Benvolio gave him no chance to speak. 

“I’m sorry for this, but I don’t have any confession worth making. That’s not what I need. Friar, please listen to me, there isn’t much time.”

Taken aback as he looked by the lack of propriety, Lawrence nodded. 

Benvolio took a deep breath. “Romeo was there too. Today. I sent him away after, but he  _ was  _ involved in the fighting. I had him hide in an old garden shed near his family estate. Said I’d send someone when things were safe.” He paused to study Lawrence’s lined face, and continued when he found no horror there. “Please, I know you’ve looked after him in the past. If you wouldn’t mind going and telling him—telling him—tell him things are safe but that he can’t let anyone know he was there. No one seriously suspects him.” Benvolio squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm the tremor in his voice. “And...don’t tell him the execution is tomorrow.”

“My son, it would be unkind to lie—”

“Romeo and Juliet.” Benvolio cut him off again. The friar blinked. “You married them, didn’t you?”

Lawrence sighed and nodded. “Just this morning.”

“Then please, don’t let Romeo get involved in this. He...they don’t deserve all..this.” He gestured widely. The murders. The feud. Verona. He had been bitter and worried when Romeo had told them about Juliet, but they were well past that mattering. “ Things will heat up after this with Tybalt and Mercutio gone. They can’t afford to be in town for that, whatever their plans were before.”

Lawrence pursed his lips but agreed, promising kindly (pityingly, Benvolio noted with a twist of distaste) to find a way to let him know when they were safe. As he left the cell, Benvolio let himself deflate and soon fell into a fitful sleep. 

In his dreams first Mercutio, and then Tybalt, and then Romeo by turn appeared and reached out to him, each one a grisly mockery of life. Mercutio’s shade was dragged away screaming his name and reaching for him; Romeo’s would not hear his pleading and walked away from him into a dark distance Benvolio could not follow him into. Tybalt held him back, their bodies pressed together. Tybalt’s hand was wrapped around his throat, fingernails digging into his skin as his grip tightened and Benvolio gasped for breath.

Suddenly, he was lying on a roof near the center of town. Tybalt was lying beside him. This was two weeks ago, Benvolio realized. They’d fallen asleep here exhausted after a late-night alleyway tryst neither had planned for (not that they ever did much planning). He leaned over Tybalt and traced his fingers along the unbroken skin of his chest where his shirt lay open. Relief washed over him. He had time, he could talk to Tybalt, he could hold Mercutio down and  _ make  _ him stay away from the fight. The tightness in his chest melted away in waves. 

Tybalt stirred next to him and turned. Benvolio let himself simply gaze into the brown of his eyes for a moment, then, cautiously, doing his best to not alarm Tybalt with the movement, turned on his side to run his hand carefully through Tybalt’s hair. “Your hair...it’s beautiful.”

Tybalt smiled sweetly—almost too sweetly, really. “I’m glad you said so, I’ll be dead in two weeks, you know, better to say things outright.” 

Something was wrong, but Benvolio still could only feel relief. There was enough time. Even if he couldn’t fix things, he could say goodbye. And maybe, maybe he could still save them. For now, he kissed Tybalt and wrapped his arms around his chest to feel his heartbeat. 

“Benvolio—Benvolio!” 

Romeo’s voice cut through the morning quiet and Benvolio woke to the roughness of the cell floor cold against his back. 

Oh. 

“Benvolio, wake up, please, the guards won’t be gone long.” Benvolio could hear the tears in Romeo’s voice before he even turned over. He breathed and counted to ten to compose himself before sitting up and forcing a smile.

“All that sneaking to see me? God, what time is it?” Benvolio blinked and registered the light fully for the first time. It could hardly be half an hour past dawn. 

“I had to come, had to hurry, I was at Juliet’s and—and—” Romeo crumbled and sank down against the prison bars. “They’re making her marry that count  _ tomorrow.  _ They got her up early to tell her, that’s why I’m here so soon.” The heaviness in Romeo’s voice sent icy barbs through Benvolio’s heart. He’d have given anything to never hear his sweet cousin sound so sad, or so old. Romeo took a breath and continued shakily. “Friar Lawrence told me he had a plan for us to run away if we had to, but I can’t do that, can I? I don’t know what to do.”

Romeo’s eyes were wide. Benvolio shuddered at the thought of his aunt and uncle learning their son had run away with the Capulet heiress. It would horrify them. How much more terribly would it hurt them to know everything else? He steeled himself. “What do you mean you can’t? You go with her, of course. Today.” 

The color drained from Romeo’s face as if he’d just swallowed poison. “No, no, what about you?” 

Benvolio shrugged. “I have time. It’s not important. Listen to me—”

Romeo grasped at Benvolio’s vest through the prison bars, shaking his head wildly. “I’m not  _ leaving  _ you here, you didn’t even do it! I—I killed him, not you, god, you can’t...you can’t…” Romeo’s shoulders shook with sobs. “Mercutio’s  _ gone,  _ you can’t be too, I can’t lose you too.”

Benvolio wanted to wrap himself around Romeo and hold him steady the way he had when they were younger and Romeo was plagued by nightmares. Instead, he braced himself. He owed it to Romeo, to Romeo’s family, to Mercutio, and all the love in himself to keep Romeo safe. He owed it to Tybalt to keep Juliet safe as well, he supposed. Little as he had gotten along with the man outside of the nights they’d spent together, it didn’t take much observation to see that Tybalt Capulet cared deeply for his younger cousin. Who did she have to shield her with him gone if Benvolio failed them?

Romeo’s breathing was becoming panicked. “I’ll go to the prince today. Right now. I’ll turn myself in. It’s not right to run and leave you, I won’t do it.” 

Benvolio made a split-second decision. Shaking Romeo upright, he angled his arm and slapped him harshly across the face as hard as the awkward angle provided by the prison bars allowed him. “Don’t you dare.” He hissed. “Don’t you dare do that. Juliet needs you. Mercutio told you to live.”

Romeo was still shaking his head in shock.

“Go to Lawrence from here, don’t go back home. Whatever plans he has for you and Juliet, go along with them and get out of town  _ today. _ Don’t look back.”

“Ben, please, I—”

Benvolio rose and tugged his hands out of Romeo’s. He turned away. “Get out, don’t worry about me. I have plenty of time to work out what I can. I’ll see you again in another place, or else not at all.” 

Time and truth were luxuries none of them could afford. 

They stood in silence a moment. Benvolio breathed slowly and counted down from ten.  _ Nine, eight, seven, six— _

“I love you, Benvolio. Promise me you’ll be alright.”

Benvolio felt the last thread holding his shattered heart together snap. “I promise.” 

As Romeo’s footsteps retreated, he finally gave way to the tears. 

* * *

Benvolio hated how much he was shaking. He needed to be strong this last time; if death was anything beyond oblivion and Mercutio was watching, how would he feel to see Benvolio as terrified as he had been? What comfort would that bring? The time for tears and terror and biting his lips bloody with panic was past. 

Every second he could he spent scanning the sparse crowd that had gathered in the town square. In the light of the early sunset, he could easily pick out every familiar and unfamiliar face. He couldn’t bring himself to look his aunt and uncle in the eye, despite knowing they were there. They would be grieved, afraid, upset, questioning. Asking him how he could dare leave their son like this. Asking why he couldn’t have been the sensible one. Did they know Romeo was gone yet? He wondered yet again how much farther that might break them. 

He hadn’t been listening to the man beside him on the platform reading his sentencing, so feeling the noose shoved roughly over his head snapped him back to reality with a cold force. They’d stripped him down to his shirt and pants; his whole self felt exposed without his usual layers. He offered a quick prayer in the direction of his parents, hoping they wouldn’t mind him dying without his usual mourning colors. The roughness of the cold rope against his throat felt surreal. He closed his eyes and tried to force his heart to slow, summoning the memory of Tybalt’s teeth on his neck instead to distract from the sensation. Fleetingly, he thought that Mercutio would never let him live it down if he knew he was thinking such lewd things on the gallows. 

Mercutio...the sick icy feeling in Benvolio’s chest returned and shook him from his wandering fantasy. The noose was adjusted, tightened. Benvolio darted his eyes frantically through the crowd, looking for anything to hold onto. Where was the damned friar? Was Romeo alright? A darkness threatened to spread over his vision at the dizzying thought of looking into the crowd and seeing Romeo there. Of knowing he had failed him one last time. He already felt he couldn’t breathe.

And suddenly there was Lawrence. Their eyes locked through the casual jeering of the crowd. The old man nodded once, sadly, but with hope in his eyes. 

They were safe. 

Benvolio smiled even as the noose went taut. He dreamed of flowing brown hair with red streaks that caught the sunset. 


End file.
